


The Art Of Double Meaning

by Rhys (rhyssj)



Category: NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: Dildos, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-05
Updated: 2004-05-05
Packaged: 2019-04-20 08:36:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14257080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhyssj/pseuds/Rhys
Summary: The best present is a double-headed dildo. No, really.





	The Art Of Double Meaning

**Author's Note:**

> A _100 Ways_ story.

There was a long-standing tradition that, if you got dumped or you dumped someone, you got presents. Though it had been Chris’s idea originally, it had actually started with Joey. Joey had been the only one actually seeing someone when the group started, so he was the guinea pig. 

After the fifth breakup with Kelly, they created a new rule that you got break-up presents to a maximum of three break-ups with any one person. This rule would come in handy years later when JC and Bobbie turned out to be one of those I-love-you-no-I-hate-you relationships, too. 

There were other rules, too. Nothing extravagant, since that time Joey had bought Chris a car and made everyone else’s presents look lame in comparison. Nothing that the receiver wouldn’t like, because both Justin and Chris had been caught giving people gifts they, obviously, intended to borrow and never, ever give back. And really, that was about it, rule-wise. 

Presents were the only good thing that was going to come out of breaking up with Britney. 

That was what Justin told himself, anyway. 

~~~ 

Other than the promise of presents, everything else sucked. Justin cried a lot when he was alone in his room, bitter and miserable. He’d only gotten break-up presents once before, and it hadn’t hurt like this with Melissa. Yeah, she’d cheated on him, but he’d been ready to go, too. 

But Britney. Justin had really loved Britney a lot, and now. 

Now, there was no Britney. 

And there were still no fucking presents, which wouldn’t cheer him up, because they never cheered anybody up, but they usually banished the pain for the good five minutes it took to rip through the wrapping paper and laugh at all the stupid stuff the guys had managed to find. 

No presents, and no Britney, and no reason to get out of bed in the morning. 

"Stop moping," Chris said when Justin finally managed to get dressed and meet the others for breakfast. Admittedly, it was early afternoon by the time he got there, and everyone but Chris had already moved onto the arena for sound check, but Justin _had_ tried. "You’re depressing me." 

Justin rolled his eyes. 

"No, seriously. If anything, you should be angry, J. Hey, wanna go key her car?" 

Tempting idea, but, "no. Not yet, anyway. I don’t wanna give her the satisfaction." 

"Can I do it?" 

Justin thought about it for a very brief moment then decided on, "yes." 

"Awesome," Chris said, and they went down to the lobby where Big Mike was waiting with a car and a bag of McDonald’s. Justin ate on the way, hoping this didn’t count as Chris’s gift because, while thoughtful, Justin wasn’t all too keen on McDonald’s, and Chris knew that. 

"You big wimp," Chris said when they were a few blocks from the arena, deadlocked in Anaheim traffic. Chris had been making faces at passing motorists. "This isn’t your present." 

"Hey, I didn’t say anything," Justin protested. Because he hadn’t. He had manners. 

"You were thinking it. I can tell these things, you know. And hey, Big Mike!" Chris shouted suddenly, so loud that Justin jumped back and whacked his head on the window. "Lemme out, will ya? I think I just saw a certain car that I have been given permission to key." 

But Big Mike wouldn’t let him out, because Big Mike wasn’t stupid and Chris was too blind to have seen Britney’s car, which had no reason for _being_ in Anaheim. Justin listened to Chris whine and beg and yelp for the rest of the trip. By the time the arrived at the arena, Justin was so pissed and annoyed at Chris that he mostly forgot about Britney and pain and moping. 

~~~ 

By the end of the night, there were presents. Joey gave him a karaoke machine, "for the bus, you know, cuz I know singing and performing make you feel better, and C and Chris even said they wouldn’t kill you over it, either," and Chris gave him an I’m-with-stupid hoodie. 

"For when we go out in public together," Chris said proudly and made Justin wear it all day. Justin was convinced Chris was going to make him wear it on stage but wardrobe intervened at the last second, ignoring every one of Chris’s pleas. Admittedly, it would have been funny. 

JC’s present came right after the concert, after they were all herded to the busses. Justin was smelly and exhausted, and Chris was up annoying Ernie, the bus driver, even though he’d been banned from the cockpit, like, thirty-seven million times for being a dangerous distraction. 

JC, as always, had a hard-on that Justin still hadn’t learned how to ignore. 

It was made the present all the more worse, even knowing JC had put thought into it. 

"Uh," Justin said, staring at the books. Erotica books, with sexy body parts on the covers and teasers on the back that sounded both cheesy and alluring, straight _and_ gay stuff. Justin hadn’t done guys in years. Hadn’t even thought about it, really, until right that second. Mostly. 

JC looked pleased with himself. "It took me a bit, but I think I got your brain down, J." 

"Thank you," Justin said weakly. "I’m sure they’re all great." 

"They are," JC replied, grinning. "I read them all first just to make sure." 

"Ew," Justin said, but laughed, too, and it felt so damn good to do it. 

~~~ 

Chris managed to key Britney’s car before they left California for Arizona, claiming it was the second part of Justin’s gift. He even gave Justin the key he had used to do it. Justin wrapped it in saran wrap stolen from catering and guiltily kept it hidden in with his underwear. 

Lance still hadn’t come through with a present. 

Justin felt ungrateful for even noticing, but there was protocol, and Lance broke up with guys so often that Justin actually bought gifts for Lance (always designer clothing) in advance, knowing that nothing would go out of fashion by the time Lance got dumped. Such things were inevitable, like the sun rises in the east and what goes up must come down and other cliche stuff. 

Justin told on him, but only to Joey, and only after Justin had got his hands on Brianna. 

Joey smiled. "I’m pretty sure he mentioned something about it. Give him time, dude." 

"Well, okay." Justin blew kisses on Brianna’s pudgy baby cheeks. There was something about her that just made the whole world right. Probably her sweet grin, or the way she pulled merrily on his hair, and a hundred other things that banished the suckitude from Justin’s life. 

"You wanna babysit for a while?" 

"Yes," Justin said, and stole her for the whole afternoon, walking around the stands as JC and Chris helped with sound check, Lance talked on his phone, and Joey disappeared with Kelly. _That_ made Justin very sad, so he didn’t think about it. He played patty-cake with Brianna instead. 

~~~ 

They moved from Phoenix to Las Vegas then to Houston, and there was still no gift from Lance. There _were_ a few annoyed messages from Britney about her car, but Justin didn’t reply to any of them. He let Chris listen to them because it made him happy and _that_ made Justin happy. 

By the time they hit San Antonio, Justin had given up and was no longer talking to Lance. 

"Man, you’re just mad at him because he’s more immediate than Britney," JC said when he called Justin on it. Justin supposed JC had a point, but so did he. Justin had spent thousands of dollars on Lance’s broken hearts in the last few years and had got absolutely nothing in return. 

Justin grumbled. "He’s being a jerk and not giving me my present, _that’s_ why I’m mad." 

"Man, I know how to make you feel better. After the show, you and me are going out." 

Going out with JC wasn’t Justin’s idea of fun, because JC sucked at going out. He just got drunk really quickly, ogled all the girls’s tits and got called a pig a zillion times. And then, after all that, he still usually had a handful of girls willing to go home with him and have sex. 

Justin ended up talking to a really nice girl, who was an aspiring model and majoring in philosophy. They talked a little about the meaning of life before Justin took her back to the hotel, where they had slow careful sex, and they didn’t talk at all the next morning. It was too awkward. 

Justin decided to be mad at JC, too. 

~~~ 

"Hey," Lance said, finally, in Dallas, and handed Justin a long tube wrapped in tin foil. Justin took it, but didn’t say thanks. He was still pissed that Lance had seemingly forgotten all about his pain. "But I wouldn’t open it here if I was you. It’s a _private_ type of gift, you know?" 

Justin didn’t open it right then, but he did say, "thank you, Lance," when Lance turned to leave, and Lance had given him a strange little smile in response. Justin spent the rest of the day shaking the package to figure out what it was, enduring taunts from the other guys to just open the damn thing already, and then losing it for two hours before Joey found it in the Quiet Room. 

By the time Justin stumbled into his hotel room, the anticipation was killing him, but the fear of the unknown was even worse. Maybe he didn’t want to open it. Maybe it was just going to stay wrapped forever. Maybe Lance was just fucking with him as Lance was known to do. 

Justin took a shower then ordered room service then ignored Chris’s phone calls. He watched TV for a while, using CNN to get caught up with the world. Lance’s gift sat beside him, waiting. Finally, when Justin’s eyelids were practically at his knees, he decided to just open it. 

Big fucking mistake. 

Justin choked, and dropped the dildo then picked it up again, brushing off all the hair and other assorted fuzzy shit it had picked up from the carpet. It wasn’t even a normal dildo. It was one of those double-headed ones that drove JC nuts when he found lesbian porn that used them. 

"Motherfucking asshole Lance," Justin mumbled angrily, shaking the dildo in his fist. 

It wobbled merrily back at him. 

~~~ 

"Thank you," Justin muttered the next time he saw Lance, because he was polite, and Lance smiled but didn’t say anything. He acted like things weren’t weird, so Justin did too, and it became obvious that things _weren’t_ weird, at least not in Lance’s mind, but a dildo, a _double-headed_ dildo, what sort of "sorry you had your heart squished by his/her shoe" gift was that? 

"Chris, if you bought me a double-headed dildo, what would you mean by it?" Justin asked the next morning, once the bus was underway in its trek to Denver. There, they’d have a few days off because Lance was going to Moscow to have medial tests done for the space thing. 

"I wouldn’t buy you a double-headed dildo." 

Chris didn’t look away from the tv when he said it, his fingers moving furiously over the X-Box controller, squinting at the screen even though he had his glasses on. Justin sat down next to him, pretending to watch and secretly hoping Chris didn’t con him into a two-player game. 

"Hypothetically," Justin said, "if you bought me a double-headed dildo ..." 

"I wouldn’t." 

" _Hypothetically_ , Chris." 

Chris stabbed his finger down on the pause button then turned to him. "Listen, okay? A hypothesis is an educated guess. A smart man would never in a million years make an educated guess that I would give you a double-headed dildo, because it’s just not something I’d ever do." 

"Pissy asshole," Justin muttered, sitting back and crossing his arms. 

Chris played for another ten minutes then paused the game. "However, if Lance was to give you a double-headed dildo, I’d say he was doing it as an _invitation_ , because, see, Lance is a precocious young buck who has gotten it into his head that sex makes everyone feel better." 

Justin blinked. "What? An invitation to have sex with _him_?" 

"He’s a bottom. You’re a bottom. _Hypothetically_ , of course," Chris added, grinning, and Justin rolled his eyes. He had, in fact, stuck things up his ass before, just not anyone else’s dick. "Lance is a little crazy in the head, right? So this makes perfect sense. He’s thinking of _you_." 

"So he’s not fucking with me?" 

Chris smirked. "Not yet, baby." 

~~~ 

Justin went to Joey for the second opinion, hoping that Chris was wrong and Lance had really just wanted to mess with his head a little, but Joey came to the same conclusion without any of Chris’s annoying preamble and without even letting Justin finished his sentence first. 

"Dude," Joey said, clapping a hand down on Justin’s shoulder, "he obviously thinks you guys getting it on would help you somehow, and hey, it probably would. It’s Lance, you know? When’s the last time you got laid by someone not Britney? It’s probably been a while, huh?" 

"Like three days ago," Justin said defensively, "with a really hot girl." 

Joey whistled. "Nice, man. So, okay. I’m wrong there, but I know Lance. He’s offering." 

"But why," Justin asked, "would Lance want to have sex with me?" 

Joey shrugged. "Why not? I’d have sex with you myself, if Kelly wouldn’t kill me." 

"You know sex doesn’t fix anything, right?" Justin said, refusing to let a smile crack his lips, _refusing_ , and he wasn’t just laughing because the idea of sex with Joey was so _odd_. "I mean, somewhere along the way, you guys learned that sex actually makes things worse, right?" 

"Maybe you," Joey replied sweetly, "need to learn it sometimes helps, you tight ass." 

"My ass isn’t tight!" Justin insisted, but Joey was too busy laughing to apologise. 

~~~ 

Justin didn’t bother to ask JC, because he was still mad at JC, though he wouldn’t be tomorrow. That was the plan, anyway. It wasn’t any fun being mad at JC. He never noticed. 

Like all his _real_ days off, Justin dicked around and got nothing done. He napped. He locked himself in the bathroom (the acoustics were better) and used Joey’s karaoke machine. He made arrangements with his mom for her to go over to Britney’s house and get his stuff and then he’d cried a little in her ear over the phone, telling her she didn’t need to come, that he was fine. 

Later, Justin lay in bed and thought about Lance. Lance, who Justin has actually kissed once, when he was sixteen and Lance was eighteen, and they’d both been drunk. In an ideal world, they would have fucked, but Justin had been too nervous to even think about doing it. 

Justin was tempted to phone Lance up, to talk to him and maybe yell at him for giving Justin such a lousy break-up present and for taking Justin’s mind off Britney and for making Justin think about what sex with Lance would be like, how hot it would be, how hard he’d come. 

Justin sat up, and opened his suitcase, grabbing one of the books from JC, the one with the man on the cover whose belly was flat and tanned and looked a little like Lance’s. It was so unhealthy, that Justin was even let himself think of Lance like that, but it made him feel better. 

After half an hour of reading, Justin took off his shirt, slithered out of his pants and whisked down his briefs. It felt good to be naked while reading smut, his cock hard against his thigh. He read, carefully turning each page, and occasionally reached down to stroke his dick. 

Around the middle, when it was just getting really good and it looked like the repressed young aristocrat was finally going to let the handsome young servant boy into his bed, Justin put the book down and got the double-headed dildo instead. In the bathroom, he scrubbed it clean. 

When Justin had been seventeen, right before he hooked up with Britney full-time, he had gone through this period where all he had wanted to do was stick things up his ass. Around that time, Lance had been fucked for the first time, so maybe there was some correlation, but the fact remained that Justin had quite joyfully fucked himself in the butt with anything he could find. 

It’d been a while, though, since he’d had the urge. Sure, sometimes, Britney had used her fingers, but she’d been mostly unwilling to clip her nails, and Justin hadn’t like that too much. So lying there on his back, carefully slicking a condom on one head of a plastic dick, it felt good. 

It felt like everything had _before_ Britney. 

Justin closed his eyes, thinking about a dashing aristocrat and his handsome manservant, and concentrated on breathing and pushing out while a slippery hand urged the lotion-coated dildo in, missing a few times before it finally worked. It was bigger than anything Justin had ever tried before, but Lance had been reasonable about the size, which was, in itself, pretty surprising. 

Justin lifted his knees then opened them wide, curling his toes into the sheets for leverage. Slowly, he fucked himself, and imagined hot aristocrat/manservant sex and wasn’t surprised, really, when his daydream shifted into him and Lance, on his bed, fucking each other. Justin didn’t know exactly how it would work and really didn’t care because it was so damn hot. 

So damn hot that he came a heartbeat later, covering his chest, his hand, his book with come. When Justin thought his legs would hold him, he stood up and went to the bathroom, where he ruefully washed everything off. Justin then finished reading, wrinkly pages and all. 

~~~ 

"Even though you didn’t ask me," JC said the next time Justin saw him, "I’m gonna give you my opinion on the whole Lance dildo thing." Justin pursed his lips together, waiting for JC to get the hell on with it, and was then mildly disappointed. "Man, I concur with Chris and Joey. Lance is a literal kinda dude, J, and he never really learned the art of double meaning. You dig?" 

Justin rolled his eyes, but he forgave JC anyway. Justin was feeling pretty calm about the whole thing, because if there was one thing Lance knew how to do, it was casual sex, and that was something Justin had never really mastered. Most morning-afters, he wanted to get married. 

And if nothing else, Justin couldn’t possibly feel much worse than he already did. 

Lance came back three hours before they were set to go onstage in Denver, looking tired and pale but happy, too. "I think I gave half my blood to Russia," Justin heard Lance saying to a Joey, who swooped in like a hero and offered his shoulder before Justin could even get near him. 

Justin went about his day, fiddling with the soundboard until he was yelled at by no less than three sound techs. At the catering table, he made his own stack of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for dinner then had a bowl of Captain Crunch. He pissed, brushed his teeth, dozed. 

When he woke up, Lance was sitting on the opposite couch, watching him. 

"You feeling all right?" Justin asked immediately, because Lance looked even worse. 

"I’m okay," Lance replied. "A little Russian torture is nothing I can’t handle." 

Justin smiled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, then casually checked for drool. 

Lance lifted his eyebrows. "But enough about me. Are you okay?" 

"Yeah," Justin said. "I mean, better, anyway. I, um, took your present for a test drive." 

Lance grinned. "Oh, yeah? Solo?" 

"Unfortunately," Justin said, and tried to make it sound sultry and sexy, batting his eyelids a little, wetting his lips. He didn’t even mind too much when Lance laughed at him. "Do you want to, um. You know. Maybe you could show me, like, everything it does. Maybe?" 

"Not tonight," Lance said, and Justin must have put his disappointment on display because Lance was quick to add, "but give me a day or two? I don’t think I have enough blood left in me to get a hard-on, and that would sort of put a damper on the whole thing, you know." 

Justin smiled. His relief was practically tangible. "Okay," he said. 

"Okay," Lance echoed. 

And it was only a little bit awkward after that. 

~~~ 

Chris, Joey and JC got it into their heads that going to a strip club in Des Moines would make Justin feel better. Spitefully, Justin wore his I’m-with-stupid hoodie and made a point to stand beside them as often as humanly possible. He ended up playing pool with Lance all night. 

Lance went to get them some beers, and when he came back, he said, "I’m recovered." 

"Okay," Justin said, lamely. He knew what Lance meant without having to ask. 

It was a little harder to win at pool after that, but Justin managed. By the time Chris, Joey and JC had worn themselves out on tits and ass, Lance owed Justin upwards of nine thousand dollars. Chris, Joey and Chris ended up in one car, Justin and Lance in the other. The ride back to the hotel in Ames was torturously long. It took thirty-nine minutes, and twenty-seven seconds. 

Not that Justin was counting or anything. 

Of course he wasn’t. 

~~~ 

The problem with having friends who knew everything about your sex life was that sometimes they killed the moment before it ever happened. Not that night, though. Chris slapped Justin on the ass and said, "good night, baby," but that was practically par for course. 

Justin made a mental note to forgive them all for the strip club by the next morning. 

They stopped at Lance’s room for lube, since Lance was practical and thoughtful and, mostly importantly, was known to break out in hives when exposed to Justin’s hand lotion. Inwardly, Justin battled himself. It was stupid, that he was even doing this, but it was Lance. 

It was _Lance_. 

Inside his own room, Justin didn’t know what to say or how to start it. He stared at his feet. He forgot, in the span of five minutes, how to even have sex. The good thing about Lance, which Justin _did_ remember, was that Lance had always been the type of guy to just do it. 

Lance was a Nike commercial. 

When Justin looked up, Lance was standing in front of them. He put his hands on Justin’s hips and leaned forward, his face lifted up towards him. Justin bowed his head and put his lips carefully against Lance’s, opening them when Lance opened his, letting Lance’s tongue inside. 

Justin put his hands on Lance’s neck, just below the jut of his jaw, on either side. It was a slow, deliberate type of kissing. Lance’s stubble scraped over his chin, rough like sandpaper, and Justin thought to himself, quite stupidly at that, _whoa, I’m kissing a guy_ , and that blew his mind. 

Justin found himself kissing Lance like it was all that stood between them and certain doom. He dropped his hands to Lance’s waist, slipping under his shirt, mapping the smooth skin of Lance’s back with his fingertips. Lance chuckled lowly in his ear, sounding almost startled. 

"It’s been a while, huh?" 

"Yes," Justin said. "It’s been for-fucking-ever. Like, shit, I can feel your fucking _dick_." 

"Surprise, I have one," Lance replied, and Lance’s dorkiness just turned Justin on more. 

Justin kissed all over Lance’s neck then down to his chest, mouthing each pert nipple. Lance’s abs quivered gently, and Justin kissed each of them, too. On his knees, Justin struggled with Lance’s zipper then finally, blissfully, got his pants open. He wasn’t wearing underwear. 

"Lance," Justin said, and that was it. Just Lance’s boring name, and Lance didn’t reply, because Justin put Lance’s dick in his mouth and started sucking with enthusiasm. It’d been so damn long since he’d last sucked dick that Justin had worried he’d forgotten how, but he hadn’t. 

No fucking way had he forgotten how. 

~~~ 

After Lance came, they undressed quickly. Justin stood there, naked, and just stared at Lance, whose dick was still semi-hard and still damp from Justin’s mouth. Justin turned away and got out the double-headed dildo then he held it out, like he didn’t know what to do with it. 

And really, he wasn’t sure he did. 

One person was easy; two was a bit more complicated. 

Thankfully, Lance took the dildo and immediately slicked condoms down either side of it. 

"Climb up," Lance finally said, putting the palm of his hand against one of Justin’s bare ass cheeks and leading him to the bed. Justin got onto his hands and knees, and felt like a tool. He yelped a little when he felt Lance’s fingers slick against him, pushing cold lube inside him. 

"You’ve done this before?" Justin asked, "this double-headed dildo thing?" 

"No," Lance said simply. "I saw it in a movie once, though. That movie about heroin?" 

"That was chicks," Justin replied, "and it was pretty fucking traumatic for them." 

"Well, we’re neither chicks nor heroin addicts, so it’ll be okay. Now hush." Lance’s fingers pulled out of Justin, and when he looked over his shoulder, he could see Lance working lube between his own legs. Immediately, Justin’s cock, which had wilted slightly, recovered. 

It should have been practical and uncomfortable, like a trip to the doctor’s, but it didn’t feel like that at all. Not with one of Lance’s arms around Justin’s waist, Lance’s cheek rubbing roughly between Justin’s shoulder-blades, as he slowly fed one end of the dildo into Justin’s ass. 

Justin moaned a little, helplessly, and Lance chuckled, "you should see how it _looks_." 

Lance kissed down Justin’s spine then he was gone. Justin clenched nervously around the dildo then looked back over his shoulder to Lance, who was getting in position. Lance, Justin noticed, had a really nice ass from that angle. Nice balls, too. And his dick, that was also nice. 

Justin watched as Lance grabbed his end of the dildo and led it inside him, the way he opened to take it, the pulse of the dark muscle there. Lance’s legs were rubbing against the outsides of Justin’s calves as Lance moved closer, inch by inch, until their knees finally met. 

"You good?" Lance asked, and Justin made some sort of affirmative noise in his throat. 

When Lance began moving his hips, Justin followed, and it wasn’t long before he took the lead and Lance mimicked him instead. Lance never had been one for natural rhythm, not for as long as Justin had known him, but that didn’t matter here. Everything Lance did felt just _great_. 

When his arms got too wobbly to hold him up, Justin dropped his shoulders to the bed and snaked one hand to his cock. He laughed a little, breathlessly, when he felt Lance’s fingers. They held hands like that for a few minutes, their balls rubbing over the soft skin of their wrists. 

"Can we?" Justin said then cocked his hips, which was enough explanation for Lance, who nodded. In complete synchronicity, they rolled over onto their backs and wiggled closer. The minute Lance’s perfectly manicured feet came close enough, Justin stuck them under his armpits and started moving his hands up and down the length of Lance’s fuzzy legs. 

This way felt much, much better. 

They probably looked like idiots, but Justin couldn’t care, not when it felt so incredible. The knot they were tied up in felt so intimate, so safe. They undulated on the bed, the dildo an unbreakable chain between them, slipping deeper into Justin at times, pulling out at others, never more than half an inch either way, but it felt like much more. Their asses touched. 

One of Lance’s hands curled around Justin’s cock and began to stroke it. Justin bucked up helplessly, which caused Lance to moan out loud, sounding desperate and impossibly turned on. Lance sounded exactly like Justin felt, and Justin echoed it all, moving his hips faster and faster. 

"God," Lance said, the muscles in his calves wobbling against Justin’s rib cage, and his hand worked even more furiously between Justin’s legs until, with a strangled cry, Justin arched up and came so hard that he couldn’t breathe through it, could only mew until the orgasm passed. 

Justin lay there, panting, unable to speak. 

He thought, maybe, he’d swallowed his own tongue. 

~~~ 

It probably should have ended right there. Lance had given him the best present, the end, but then Lance’s smiling face showed up between Justin’s legs, and Justin reached for him. They kissed lazily, lying side by side, threaded together at the knees. Justin couldn’t keep his hands off him. Eventually, Lance ended up leaning over him, fitting himself between Justin’s parted legs. 

"Is this okay?" Justin asked quietly, holding out a condom. Lance took it. 

Lance grinned, tearing the packet open with his teeth then sliding the condom over his dick. It was bigger, Justin noticed, than the dildo had been, and that though excited him wildly. "It’s been a while, but I think I remember how it goes. I’m not that great at it, just to warn you." 

If that was _bad_ ass-fucking, Justin wasn’t sure he wanted to feel _good_ ass-fucking. He wouldn’t be able to handle it, no way. He clung to Lance, his arms wrapped around Lance’s shoulders, and panted wildly in Lance’s ear, Justin’s ankles crossed at the back of Lance’s thighs. 

"Fuck me, fuck me," Justin kept saying, uncontrollably, as Lance slid in and out. 

"Will do," Lance kept replying, smiling huge against Justin’s mouth. 

~~~ 

Later, Justin cried bitterly against Lance’s throat, curled around him so tightly that Justin wondered later how Lance had even been able to breathe. Lance just lay there and took it, not saying anything, thank god, but just keeping his arms tightly wrapped around Justin’s shoulders. 

Justin woke up in the same position, his eyelids crusted together, his eyeballs feeling like sandpaper. Worse, when he moved, his ass cheeks slicked and slipped against each other, and the feel of that banished all the crap away. Lance was already up, playing Snake on his phone. 

"Joey’s got breakfast in his room, if you’re up for it," Lance said without turning around. 

Justin cracked his back. "Shit, I’m starving, man. That would be awesome." 

"Shower’s open," Lance said, looking back over his shoulder, "and lord, you need it." 

"Fuck off," Justin said, laughing as he stood, putting his hands on Lance’s bare shoulders. He bent over and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. It seemed like the proper thing to do. Lance looked up at him and smiled, bobbing his head slightly, like he understood what Justin meant. 

And Justin thought he probably did.


End file.
